“Well, show him in, of course,” said Cassandra, getting to her feet as well.
“No, both of you, sit down,” said Byron, “and let’s have no discussion of ringing for anything. It’s barely past ten o’clock after all.”
“Yes, quite too early for visitors,” said Cassandra, her expression severe.
“Indeed,” said Byron. “My apologies.” He raised his eyebrows. “I say, have you both noticed that I spend the bulk of my time apologizing whenever I am here?”
“I thought you had gone back to London,” said Jane.
“Oh, it was far to late to travel yesterday.”
“Was it?” said Jane.
“Yes, I had to have luncheon, and then Beaumont and I got to talking, and then it was nearly time for dinner, and by that time, it was simply out of the question that I should undertake such a journey, so I decided to stay one more night, or Beaumont insisted, or—this is neither here nor there.” He waved all of thisaway. “Here it is. I woke up this morning, and I had a thought about the ladder.”
“Oh,” said Cassandra, “that perhaps someone climbed into her window and administered the fatal dollop of laudanum?”
“Just so,” said Byron. “You and I are of like minds about this, I see. What if Miss Seward was, in fact, murdered? And if so, we owe it to that poor woman’s memory to discover what it was that actually happened.”
“So, you’re not going back to London?” said Jane.
“I don’t think I should,” said Byron. “Not until this is all very settled. Don’t you agree?”
Cassandra sat down and picked up one of Henry’s letters. “I suppose it would gnaw at you if you didn’t settle it? You’d be entirely unsatisfied?”
“Yes!” Byron turned to her, nodding emphatically. “This was exactly my thought. I turned it over and over and determined it was impossible to simply let it go.”
“What was it you said?” said Cassandra to Jane. “Go off a cliff and break his own neck looking for adventure?”
Jane cleared her throat. “Never mind my sister. Yes, I suppose it does make sense to see this through. After it’s all settled, we shall both be able to put it from our minds, and until then, we shan’t, so we might as well get to the bottom of it.”
“Quite,” said Byron, giving her a dazzling smile. “And so, I think you must go and talk to Mrs. Beaumont. I thought about doing it, but I don’t see how I can barge in there. She is still abed after giving birth, and it would be entirely unseemly. You, on the other hand, could go in and put some questions to her.”
“Why are you questioning Mrs. Beaumont?” said Cassandra.
“It seems,” said Jane, “that Mr. Beaumont had a youthful association with Miss Seward, something he claims is entirely finished and has been for some years.”
“Oh, you did mention that Miss Seward had a lover,” said Cassandra. “If Mrs. Beaumont knew that her husband—”
“Yes, but we have already said that a woman who has just given birth is not running about committing murder,” said Jane. “Indeed, she is definitely not climbing ladders.”
“Oh, true.” Byron rubbed at his forehead.
“Besides,” said Jane, “I don’t see how I could ask her questions. If she has no notion of anything having occurred between her husband and Miss Seward, then my telling her of it would be the height of cruelty. Especially in the wake of her just having given birth.”
“Oh,” said Byron, dejected. “True.”
Cassandra folded up one of Henry’s letters. “I suppose she could have gotten someone else to do it for her.”
“Yes,” said Byron. “She could have, indeed.”
“But who?” said Jane. “She didn’t get Mr. Beaumont to do it.”
“Perhaps a servant,” said Cassandra idly.
“A servant,” mused Byron. “Let me think. I have been in the household for a few days, and she is rather close to some of the servants. Her maid, Jennifer, she is as protective of her mistress as a she-wolf. And she seems quite capable of climbing ladders. You and I could go and speak to the maid.”
Jane considered. “We could, I suppose. But I still don’t know what we’re going to say.”
